


Won't anybody here just let you disappear?

by Mordukai



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Blow Jobs, Bulimia, Cheating, College, Eating Disorder, Emetophobia, Established Relationship, Gender Dysphoria, High School, M/M, Self Harm, Smut, So much angst, Suicide Attempt, Trans Character, Trans Male Character, Trans Sugawara Koushi, Unhealthy Relationships, University, bulimic sugawara koushi, graphic eating disorder
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-11
Updated: 2018-03-26
Packaged: 2018-08-14 11:18:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 14,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8011585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mordukai/pseuds/Mordukai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daichi and Suga have moved in together and started college. Suga has a lot of history and Daichi is only partially aware of it. When Suga's mental health takes a turn for the worst, and the past comes back to haunt him, Daichi isn't sure whether or not their relationship is strong enough to cope.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings and tags may change as the story progresses - I only have a vague outline for each chapter as I tend to write mostly off the top of my head.
> 
> Trigger warning for purging and eating disorder stuff.

“Ready?” Daichi says, in his best captain’s voice. He looks at his boyfriend, standing next to him, on the doorstep of their apartment. They had only moved in a couple of days prior, and he still isn’t used to waking up beside Suga, falling asleep next to him, getting ready together, all of the normal things that couples living together do. He hopes that they never become normal to him, that he always feels this same sense of wonderment when he looks over to see the silver haired man next to him. 

Suga chews his lip.

“If I say no, I still have to go, don't I?” he says.

Daichi laughs and gently punches him in the arm.

“Negativity be gone!” he says, imitating his boyfriend, and Suga can’t help but smile.

“Alright, let's do this.” Suga sets off walking, his messenger bag swinging as he strides out of the apartment block and along the street. Daichi, taken by surprise, has to jog a little to catch up.

“Let's,” he says, as he catches up and grabs Suga’s hand. “Together.

-

__

“You've got everything, Koushi?”

Suga stood on the front doorstep in his new high school uniform. He held tightly to the strap of his messenger bag, as if letting go would cause it to fall.

“Yes, mum.”

His parents were watching him, that concerned look in their eyes. Everything was new this year. Not just the school, the uniform, although they were big enough changes.

“And you know, if anyone bothers you…”

“Go to the teacher immediately, yes, dad.”

“You look so smart in your uniform. My beautiful boy.” His mum looked like she was going to cry.

“Mum!” Suga pulled away as she tried to hug him, but he was grinning. Just the word 'boy' would do that to him. “I'm gonna be late. I'll be fine, I promise.”

The walk to Karasuno High School that first day was lonely, and felt longer than it really was. He could see groups of other students walking along ahead of him as he got near to the gates. Everyone had friends, except him. Sure, there were a few other kids from Uwamushi Junior High starting at Karasuno this year, but they weren't kids that Suga really knew well. He'd chosen this school precisely because no one would know him. And he doubted they would recognise him anyway. He'd had a hair cut, and other things about him had changed as well. He stood at the front gates, not daring yet to step inside the school grounds, and looked down at his uniform. The black gakuran and smart black trousers. The boy’s uniform. He smiled to himself. He was Sugawara Koushi, and he was ready to start high school.

Lessons were lonely. It wasn't that no one wanted to talk to him. In fact, several people had tried.

“Is this class 4? Maths?” A tall boy was looking anxiously at Suga, who was waiting quietly outside the classroom. The bell to signal the start of first period hadn't rung yet, but Suga had no reason to wait around in the yard.

“I think so,” he said quietly, not meeting the taller boy’s eyes. He was scary. He didn't look like a first year. He was tall and broad and Suga couldn't help notice the beginnings of beard fluff on his chin. A bolt of jealousy ran through him and he looked away.

“Thank god, I thought I was late.” The boy stood behind Suga and dropped his bag to the floor. He leaned against the wall, awkwardly.

“We have ten minutes till class,” said Suga, quietly. He picked at his fingernails, wishing he was back in junior high. Wishing he didn't feel so uncomfortable. Wishing he wasn't different.

The other boy laughed nervously. “Azumane,” he said, and then bowed. Suga couldn't hold back a giggle, and the boy, Azumane, looked confused for a second, before realising that he hadn't been facing Suga. He blushed, turned, and bowed again. Suga bowed in return.

“Sugawara,” he said.

“Nice to meet you,” said Azumane. For a moment, Suga thought maybe, just maybe, he would have a friend this lesson, but then more students arrived, and he found himself at a desk at the back of the room. The person sitting nearest to him was a girl, and although she looked over at him a couple of times, he couldn't bring himself to say hello.

-

The lecture theatre is enormous, and full of people. Suga feels a wave of panic rise in his chest, but he swallows it down.

It's no scarier than playing Seijou, he tells himself. Or Shiratorizawa. Or any of the strong teams we played against in high school.

Daichi had let go of his hand once they had reached the train station, and they'd reached the university together but not touching. First impressions, and all. Now, though, Suga reaches out under the desk, searching for his boyfriend's comforting grip. He isn’t disappointed.

"Hold the other one," Daichi whispers. “I need this one to take notes."

Suga smiles and swaps hands. With his other hand he pulls his notebook and pen from his bag.

"I'm really glad we're here together, Dai," he says, but the lecture is starting and Daichi doesn’t get a chance to respond.

"Good morning," says the lecturer, and Daichi and Suga both face forwards, ready to learn.

After the lecture, the students exit the hall. Daichi and Suga are amongst the last to leave.

"That was intense."

"I wasn't expecting this much reading on the first day."

"Are you eating in the cafeteria?"

The hubbub of noise as students compare notes and chat about the previous two hours make Suga anxious. He tugs at his shirt, a nervous habit that he's had since junior high. People flow out of the lecture theatre, voices filling the high ceilinged room.

"Can we go somewhere quiet?" he asks Daichi, who is still packing up his bag.

"Sure, I saw a cafe near the station. We have time before our next class." Daichi swings his bag over his shoulder and stands up. "Hey," he says, "stop doing that, you look fine." But he says it gently, and takes Suga's nervous hands in his. "Come on, you've got this."

"I know." Suga stops tugging at his shirt and lets his cold hands rest in Daichi's warm ones for a moment. Then he looks up and grins. "Let's get lunch, I'm starving!"

It’s a ten minute walk from the college building to the cafe Daichi had seen earlier, but both boys figure that it’s worth it, because the further they get from campus the fewer students there are. Daichi knows they won’t always have to do this. Suga just takes a little time to get used to new places and new people, that’s all.

The cafe itself is relatively quiet for the area. They order drinks and finds a table. Daichi thinks about ordering food, but he can see the worry lines appearing on Suga's face as he scans the menu and he decides just to eat his packed lunch a little later. Maybe by then, Suga will be feeling more settled, he hopes.

Suga holds the cup of tea in both hands, letting the warmth seep into him. It is almost burning. "I'm sorry I'm so, well, wet, whenever we try something new, Dai," he says. Then he grins. "That's what he said!"

Daichi rolls his eyes. "Oh my god, Kou that's my line."

Suga lifts the mug and takes a sip. The usual cheeky twinkle has returned to his eyes. "I knew you would never have said something so crude, though."

"Huh," says Daichi. He reaches his hand across the table and rests it on Suga's, avoiding the hot surface of the mug. "And anyway, you're not wet, you're just-"

"Cowardly?"

Daichi frowns. "That's not what I was gonna say and you know it! I just mean-"

"A wimp?"

Daichi flicks Suga's hand, hard. Suga snatches his hands away from his boyfriend's, almost spilling the tea.

"Suga! Would you say that to Asahi?" Daichi steadies the tea before lifting his own coffee to his mouth.

"Of course I would, duh."

Daichi sips the coffee. The strong smell, the taste, calms him. "Maybe that wasn't a great example. Ok, would you say that to Hinata?"

"Alright, you've got me there. I'm not wet, cowardly or a wimp."

"Exactly. You're strong and brave and I love you so much."

"I might not be wet, but you're definitely soppy," says Suga, punching Daichi lightly on the arm.

"Ow, shit!"

Ok, maybe not lightly.

-

__

The canteen was busy, and Suga had no one to sit with. He scanned the crowd of students, some of them clearly third years, they were so tall. He searched for the boy he had met earlier outside his maths lesson, Azumane. When he did finally spot him, though, he realised that he wasn't alone. He was standing next to another boy, with short dark hair and a pretty smile. Suga looked away. He still felt guilty for his attraction to other boys. It wasn't right. He was supposed to like girls. He was supposed to be a proper boy who liked girls. Every time he saw a boy he liked, he got this horrible feeling, that started in his stomach, like a wave of nausea. This feeling that told him, maybe you're not a real boy after all. Maybe you were wrong.

"Sugawara-san!"

Azumane was calling him but he ignored him. He turned and left the canteen. Too many people, too much noise, too much food. The smells were overwhelming. He found himself a quiet spot by the bike racks and pulled the bento box out of his bag. His mum had packed it for him that morning, making sure to include his favourite foods. He picked at it, but he couldn't eat it. His stomach was churning and he thought he might throw up.


	2. Chapter 2

Suga sits on the scruffy double bed, his knees pulled up to his chest. The one room apartment (plus tiny on suite shower room) is miniscule for two people, but it had been the cheapest they could afford. They had done their best to decorate it. Posters and photos are plastered across the four walls, and Daichi had even attempted some needlepoint, with volleyball calls and inside jokes in shaky stitching. Suga had laughed when he showed him it.

"Where the heck did you get that idea?" he'd managed to splutter, bent double, his stomach hurting from the laughter.

"A magazine," said Daichi, frowning. "Do you not like it?"

Suga stopped laughing long enough to take a closer look.

"Volleyball Jesus loves you," Suga read. "Wait, is this meant to be Asahi?" And he was roaring with laughter again.

But it had been Suga who had unpacked them when they moved into the apartment, and Suga who had insisted that they have a place on the walls, in between the movie and volleyball posters.

"Kou, you alright?" Daichi calls from the toilet.

"I'm fine, don't talk to me while you're shitting, Daichi," Suga says, smiling a little. He hugs his knees tighter. He is so cold, and it doesn’t help that they had the heat turned off to save on money.

"I'm done anyway. Do you want anything to eat?"

The bathroom door opens, and Daichi exits, wrapped only in a towel. Suga gazes at him.

"Nice," he says, letting his eyes slowly take in the sight before him.

Daichi blushes, but smiles. He lets the towel drop open slightly, exposing his muscled chest. Suga stands up and slowly walks over to his boyfriend. It doesn’t take long, only a couple of seconds, before his hands are on Daichi's bare arms. The apartment is tiny, after all.

"No food?" Daichi asks, his breath catching in his throat as Suga kisses his ear.

"I'm planning on eating something else tonight," Suga whispers in his ear. Daichi feels the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, and a heat in his crotch.

"Oh?" he whispers, trying to keep his voice steady. "And what might that be?"

Suga pulls the towel off him and takes a step back to admire his boyfriend. He runs his hands over Daichi's arms, chest, back, everywhere he can reach.

"You, you idiot," he says, smiling.

Suga pushes Daichi down onto the bed and climbs on top of him, straddling him. The towel is long gone, lying abandoned on the floor and Daichi is completely exposed.

"This isn't exactly fair," he says, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh?" says Suga, giggling. "Sorry about that, I guess."

"You don't look very sorry-" But Daichi is cut off by Suga, who swoops down to kiss him. Their mouths collide and Daichi reaches up and grasps Suga's hair. He feels Suga's tongue on his lips, in his mouth. The kiss is desperate and fast, and Daichi feels a twinge of worry but he pushes it aside. He feels Suga's hands running up and down his sides, stroking his skin. Finally, the boy breaks the kiss, but before Daichi has a chance to say, or do, anything, Suga is dropping butterfly kisses on his eyebrows, his chin, his neck, chest, stomach.

"Kou," Daichi groans as Suga kisses down his happy trail, towards his now hard cock. Daichi's fingers wind tighter into Suga's hair and he feels his hips lift up of their own accord, straining to reach Suga's mouth.

"What do you want me to do?" asks Suga, looking up into Daichi's eyes. He trails his fingers over Daichi's stomach, down, down, not down far enough. Daichi groans.

"Stop teasing me already," he says. He pushes himself into a sitting position, Suga still straddling him. Suga kisses him again on the mouth. Gentler this time. There is less anxiety behind the kiss and Daichi immediately feels calmer. It would be ok. He rests his hands on Suga's back, over the top of his shirt. He wants to touch Suga's skin. He lets his fingers slide down Suga's back, to the hem at the bottom of his shirt. "Can I?" he asks.

A moment passes, and then Suga nods. Daichi pulls at Suga's tshirt, lifting it up. He thinks he feels Suga flinch, and he stops, but when he looks at his boyfriend's face, Suga is still smiling.

"It's ok, I think," says Suga. "I think it's ok today."

Daichi pulls the shirt up and over Suga's shoulders, revealing the black binder beneath. The tri top comes down to the top of Suga's stomach, and Daichi ignores it for the moment, pushing Suga down onto his back and kissing his stomach.

"I thought I was in control today," says Suga, as Daichi gently strokes the soft skin of Suga's stomach. Daichi chuckles, and reaches to remove the binder. Suga lets him, and Daichi peels the skin tight fabric from the boy's chest, up and over his head.

"You're beautiful," he breathes, and slides his hands under Suga, between the bed and his back, and holds him close.

Suga sobs.

"Kou, what's wrong?" Daichi pulls back immediately, searching his boyfriend's face for a reason behind the sudden tears. Suga pushes him away and rolls over, covering his chest. "Kou, I'm sorry, we don't have to."

"I'm sorry." Suga's voice is muffled, his head face down on the pillow. "I can't today, I'm sorry."

Daichi reaches over to touch his boyfriend, stroking Suga's back, the prominent ridges of his spine (are they more visible than before? Daichi isn't sure), but Suga flinches.

"Please," he says. "Just... don't touch me. Please don't touch me."

Daichi takes his hand away. Every inch of him is desperate to hold Suga close to him. To stroke the soft, pale skin of his back. To trace constellations between the moles that speckle his back like stars in the sky. But he resists.

"I love you," he says softly. He doesn't expect a reply. When Suga gets into these moods it takes time before he can show affection again. As he expected, Suga buries his head further into the pillow. Daichi watches as the other boy presses his body into the mattress. It is as if he is trying to disappear into the folds of the covers and get swallowed up by the mattress. He is scared to turn away, in case when he turns back Suga has vanished completely. "I'm going to make some dinner," he says, standing up and leaving Suga on the bed. Watching him like this hurts too much. He’s a practical man. He likes to be able to help, but he isn’t good with his words, and he never knows what to say when his boyfriend is like this. If only it had been a volleyball match, then he would know what to say. But this, this is something completely different.

When he hears Daichi's footsteps recede across the room to their stove top, Suga rolls over. He clutches the pillow to his chest, and searches for his clothing. Daichi is still naked, although not for long. Suga watches him dress, covering the body that Suga both loves and envies with a tshirt and jeans. Suga pulls his own clothes on, struggling as he pulls the binder down over his chest, and then flops down onto the bed in despair.

Daichi carries two bowls of rice over to the bed. He hands one to Suga, who takes it with shaky hands. They eat in silence, Daichi quickly, Suga slowly.

"You know," says Daichi, finally, "Asahi Jesus has to watch us when we have sex."

Suga can't help but laugh, spitting rice back into the bowl. "Fuck," he says, smiling.

"Yes, he watches that too."

It’s ok. Everything is going to be ok. Ten minutes later, Daichi can hear the shower running.

Suga kneels by the toilet, tears streaming down his face. The sound of the shower and the taps drown his gagging as he thrusts his fingers down his throat. This is a secret that’s getting harder and harder to keep in this tiny living space, but right now he doesn't care. He needs it out. The food, but also the feelings. He needs them gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My first proper attempt at writing smut. Sorry it didn't get very far! I'm sure it will in future though. Next chapter will be posted on the 25th.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has some graphic emeto, so please be careful if you find that triggering.

It had started at the beginning of third year. Well, not really. It had started long before that. But the purging, that had started at the beginning of third year. Before that, he had just been a 'picky eater'. Someone who was fussy, who didn't finish the plate, who often forgot to eat. He still got enough food, but he would skip meals when he was upset, or late for something, or angry, or too tired, or too busy. He'd lost weight, but nothing drastic. He hadn't been purposefully avoiding food, just sometimes the smell was too much, or he felt ill, or he just couldn't be bothered. But the start of third year had been different.

He'd pretended that losing out to Kageyama didn't hurt him as much as it did. He pretended that he wanted Kageyama to play, that although he wanted to do as much as he could, fight as hard as he could so as to claim the spot back, he also wanted what was best for the team. In reality it was more complicated than that. He wanted the team to do well, wanted the first years to succeed, wanted to teach them so that the team got better and better. He wanted to be seen as a responsible, kind senpai. And he was scared of needing to carry the game. It had been a relief to hand over some of that responsibility. But at the same time, volleyball was the only thing that made him feel real. Being on the court, feeling the ball in his hands, that moment where he chose who to set it to. He felt alive, he felt real, and when that was taken away, something inside him broke.

Purging was easy. To kneel down, push his fingers down his throat and gag until he felt alive again. The first time had been easier than he had expected. They had finished practice, the practice where Ukai had revealed the starting line up. When Ukai had revealed that Suga had been replaced. And he had smiled. Nodded. Given Kageyama an encouraging pat on the shoulder. Told Daichi he was fine. Took longer tidying the gym, as usual, to avoid changing at the same time as the other guys. Locked up the gym. Returned to the club room. He was in a daze. Nothing felt quite real, like he was a ghost, or swimming under water. He tripped on the steps up to the club room but barely felt it. He'd known it would happen. He'd even spoken to Ukai, told him that if he had to, to choose Kageyama over him. And he'd known from the start that Kageyama was a better setter. So why? Why did it feel as though he'd been punched in the gut? Why did he feel as if the only thing anchoring him to the ground had been stolen away?

The clubroom was empty, but Suga called out anyway, just in case someone was in there, hiding. There was no response. Only a few members of the team knew that he was trans, and he was hoping to keep it that way. There was no need for the first years to know, and amazingly most of the second years still didn't know. Only the third years, the boys who had been his friends since the start.

Suga pulled off his sweaty tshirt and reached for his deodorant. He couldn't find it. It wasn't in his bag, it wasn't on the bench, it wasn't tangled in the pile of school uniform he'd dumped on the floor before practice. There was only one other place it could be.

The clubroom had a small toilet connected to it. In his first year, the toilet had been his refuge. When he hadn't managed to avoid the rest of the team, he'd been able to change there in private. The lock had been broken since forever, but so long as he kept his back against the door, no one was able to barge in on him. Today before practice, he had changed there again, because the weather had been too warm to wear his sports kit underneath his uniform, and he hadn't been able to arrive earlier than Kageyama and Hinata. The deodorant was lying on the floor, right where he had dropped it in the rush after changing. He picked it up, in a daze. He wasn't a regular. He shouldn't care so much. But who was he without that? No one. You're no one, said the little voice in the back of his mind. The one he'd been trying to silence for years. You're nothing. You can't even set properly. You're not good enough. 

Suga dropped to his knees beside the toilet. His knee pads cushioned the blow but his bare lower legs were cold against the floor. He gripped the rim of the toilet seat, his knuckles turning white. He didn't feel sick but he felt full. Full of bad feelings, full of bad thoughts, full of cotton wool and broken parts. He wretched into the toilet but nothing came up. The feeling of contracting his stomach helped, though. It forced a feeling into his numb body. He punched his stomach. The pain helped as well, but it was a feeling he was already used to. It was his usual self harm method when things got bad. This was a worse feeling than usual, so he needed something more. 

He didn't know what made him force his fingers down his throat; it just felt like the right thing to do. At first he just gagged a little, but he pushed them down harder, further, until his eyes watered. And then it happened. He wretched, and vomit spewed up out of his mouth, into the toilet. It spattered everywhere, down his arm, across his binder, down the edge of the toilet seat. But the moment it had left his body, Suga felt intense relief. He hadn't just thrown up the bread buns that Daichi had given him before practice, that had been sitting heavily on his stomach for the last couple of hours (he was amazed that they hadn't been fully digested yet, he couldn't have eaten that much earlier, could he?). He had thrown up the feelings as well. Empty, light, free. He felt powerful. He wiped the toilet, his arm and mouth as best he could with toilet roll, scrubbed the vomit from the front of his binder, flushed the waste away. He sprayed the room with copious amounts of deodorant and washed his mouth out at the sink. He was walking on clouds. Everything was alright again.

Daichi was waiting for him outside of the clubroom. Ever since his boyfriend had found out that he was trans, he had given him the space he needed, but he hadn't abandoned him.

"Suga, you alright? You took ages," he said, holding out his hand. Suga took it and smiled at him.

"I'm fine," he said. "Let's go home."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one was shorter, I got really tired this week. Spoonie problems! Next chapter will be posted on the 2nd of October and we'll be back in the present day.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No matter how hard I tried I couldn't get the flashback in the middle to stay in italics, sorry if it's confusing. >.

It’s just getting light outside when Suga wakes up. He lies still with his eyes closed for a few moments. He can feel Daichi's leg thrown across his own, Daichi's arm across his chest, Daichi's hot breath on his neck. The covers had been thrown off in the night; Daichi was like a radiator. Now, though, Suga feels the cold on his exposed arms and legs. His tshirt and boxers don't give much warmth. He tugs at Daichi's arm, until the larger man rolls off him slightly, giving him access to wriggle in closer. He’s the little spoon today.

"Mmmmm... Are you awake?" Daichi mumbles in his ear.

"Yes," says Suga, pulling Daichi's arm tighter around him. "Are you?"

"Mmmmm... Not quite," says Daichi, absentmindedly stroking Suga's arm. "What time is it?"

Suga leans over to catch a glimpse of the alarm clock, its luminous green numbers glowing in the still semi dark room.

"Ah, sorry," he says, wincing. "It's only 5am. We can go back to sleep."

Daichi runs his hand along the bottom of Suga's tshirt, stroking the skin of his stomach.

"I'm awake now," he says.

Suga rolls over so he can reach Daichi's mouth. He leans in and kisses him gently.

"I don't want to get out of bed yet."

"I didn't say we had to."

Suga giggles, that giggle that Daichi adores. Daichi wiggles his other arm, the one that isn't busy caressing Suga's stomach and side, out from where Suga's body has trapped it and winds his fingers through Suga's silver hair, gently stroking him. Suga traces his hand along Daichi's arm, up towards his shoulder. Daichi had gone to bed in a tshirt, but at some point in the night, as per usual, he had shed clothes, and is now bare chested.

"You're so warm," Suga says, wrapping his arms tightly around Daichi and nuzzling his face into his boyfriend's warm chest. "How are you always so warm?"

"I have to be, to keep you warm," Daichi says, hugging Suga tightly in return. His fingers ghost down Suga's back. Even over the top of his tshirt Daichi can still feel the bumps of Suga's spine.

Suga pulls back far enough to allow him room to punch Daichi on the shoulder. "Soppy," he says, laughing.

And now they’re kissing, properly this time. Deeply, intensely, almost frantically. Suga's hands trace shapes on Daichi's back, and Daichi runs his fingers through Suga's soft hair. Their lips part, making way for tongues, and Suga rolls on top of Daichi so that he’s lying on top of him, his hands leaving Daichi's back only to gently caress his face and hair.

"I love you," Daichi whispers against Suga's lips. "My beautiful boyfriend. You know that, right? That I love you."

Suga pulls away, holding himself up with his forearms so that he can look Daichi in the eyes.

"I know," he says, smirking. Daichi's early morning eyes are still fuzzy with sleep. He always looks so spaced out when he wakes up, Suga thinks. "I love you too."

Daichi gasps as Suga begins kissing him again, lower this time, on his neck and collarbones.

"Kou," he says, breathing in sharply as Suga's kisses trail down his chest. A sly tongue flicks out and catches his left nipple and he grunts, wrapping his fingers tighter in Suga's hair. Suga licks his nipple again, slower this time, circling it until it hardens under his tongue. With one hand, he gently twists the other nipple, which draws a groan from Daichi's mouth. Suga lifts his head briefly to take in one of his favourite sights; Daichi blushing, trying to stay quiet.

"You can make noise, you know," he says, giving Daichi's nipple a sharp twist.

"Ah," Daichi breathes sharply, still visibly trying to keep quiet. "Neighbours."

"Our walls aren't that thin." Suga drops his head down, kissing Daichi's stomach. He follows the trail of hair down to the waistband of his boxers, kissing and licking at Daichi's hot skin. Suga can feel Daichi's hands tugging at his hair, can almost feel the self restraint Daichi was exerting, not wanting to push Suga into anything he didn't want to do. Suga slips his hand inside Daichi's boxers and Daichi lets out a long, low groan as his boyfriend's hand brushes over his hard cock and cups his balls.

"Koushi, you don't-"

"I want to. Can I?" Suga asks.

"Mhhmm, if you're sure you want to. I don't want to make you do anything you're not comfortable with. It's been a while since-"

"I know, I'm sorry. But today is ok. I want to."

Daichi pushes himself up to sitting and leans over, reaching to kiss Suga. He only manages to reach the top of his boyfriend's head before collapsing back down; Suga had palmed his hard cock, then wrapped his fingers around the shaft, twisting gently.

"Anyway," says Suga, as Daichi groanes again, his fingers finding their way back into Suga's soft hair. "You're not making me do anything, are you?"

Daichi shakes his head mutely as Suga pulls down his boxers, his cock springing free. Suga lowers his head and kisses the head. He grips his boyfriend's muscular thighs tightly as he gently takes Daichi into his mouth.

Daichi groans again as he feels Suga's hot mouth encompass him. Suga's perfect, teasing tongue strokes his cock, drawing the moans from deep inside him.

"Kou," he says, through heavy pants.

"Mmm?" Suga says, his mouth still locked around Daichi.

"Please, Koushi..."

Suga smirks and begins to bob up and down, taking Daichi completely into his mouth, and then sliding him out again, over and over. Daichi's hips thrust up to meet Suga's mouth and the fingers twisted in his hair twist tighter.

"Kou, I think I'm gonna-" Daichi tries to push Suga's head off him, but Suga pushes his hands away, pinning his wrists by his sides. He doubles his efforts, and Daichi feels the clench in his stomach as his orgasm shakes him. He bucks into Suga's mouth, and Suga moans in response as he feels Daichi's cum coating his tongue. He pauses for a moment, so brief that Daichi, who is still shaking, doesn't notice. But then he swallows, and lets Daichi's now flaccid cock slide from his mouth. He crawls up Daichi's body and allows the other boy to sleepily wrap his arms around him.

"I love you," he whispers, and Daichi holds him close, stroking his hair, his head buried in his neck.

"I love you too," he says finally, once speech has returned to him. "Can I, you know, reciprocate?"

He waits, as silence fills the room. Finally, Suga shakes his head.

"Not today. I'm sorry."

"It's ok," says Daichi, stroking Suga's back over his tshirt. "I just want you to be happy."

"Maybe soon," says Suga. "Maybe."

"I can wait as long as I need to," says Daichi. "I'd wait forever for you."

"You're being soppy again," says Suga, laughing.

-

"Ah, Sugawara-kun, can I have a word?" Takeda called as the boys cleared up the gym after practice.

"Is everything alright?" Suga asked. He noticed the concern etched into the teacher's face. Ukai was hovering behind him, also looking worried, which surprised Suga as usually the coach was quite laid back.

"Sugawara-kun, ah, well, I was concerned, that is, we were both concerned, we've noticed lately, you seem-" Takeda was stumbling over his words more than usual, and Suga could feel dread building in his stomach.

"I don't have any experience in this area but what sensei is trying to say is that we're worried about your health," Ukai said in his usual drawl.

Takeda nodded. He spoke again, this time with more confidence.

"I'm not the nurse so I don't really know much about this kind of thing, but I've noticed that you've lost an awful lot of weight recently. I was just worried, just in case there was something wrong."

"What do you mean?" Suga asked, nervously. He hadn't lost weight, had he? He still felt so fat. He hadn't realised it was noticeable. And how had he lost weight? He still ate. And you couldn't lose weight from puking, could you? The food was still in your stomach. He had figured that he must have been absorbing all of the calories still.

"Are you eating enough? You're still growing, it's important to keep your strength up," said Ukai.

"Is everything ok at home? If your family is short on anything, please let us know, there'll be something we can do," added Takeda.

They hadn't figured it out. Suga breathed a sigh of relief.

"I'm fine, I must have just had a growth spurt. I eat plenty, don't worry."

That wasn't completely a lie. He did eat plenty. Or at least, he cooked plenty. And then shared it with Daichi, and sometimes Asahi, and his parents, and the dog. And the bin. And then, finally, the toilet. But he was still eating enough. He had to still be eating enough. It wasn't like he was dieting. He just didn't like feeling full.

"That's good to hear," said Ukai.

"Just remember you can talk to us if you need to, ok?" said Takeda.

Suga nodded.

"I'm fine, don't worry."

After changing alone, he found Daichi and Asahi waiting for him outside of the clubroom.

"What did they want?" Daichi asked. "Anything important?"

"Nah, just asking about some stuff for the next match," said Suga, wishing he was better at coming up with excuses.

"Anything we can help with?" Asahi asked as they began their walk home.

"No, it's fine," said Suga. He looped his hand through Daichi's, hoping and praying that he had sprayed enough deodorant to cover the smell of the vomit he had thrown up minutes before.

-

When the alarm finally goes off at 7am, Daichi and Suga roll out of bed, Daichi heading straight for the shower and Suga heading for the coffee pot. When Daichi finishes, they swap. They had showered together once before, but Suga's dysphoria had worsened, and Daichi doesn't dare suggest the idea now. He hopes that one day Suga wi.. feel comfortable to let him touch him again, like he had done in the past. Like he had done when they were teenagers. It hadn't exactly been easy back then either, but it hadn't been this bad.

After his shower, Suga dresses in the bedroom. He has his back to Daichi, so nothing is on show, but Daichi watches as he pulls his clothes on, as his spine sticks out and his hip bones point and his skinny ankles look like they might break.

"Have you lost weight again?" he asks.

Suga's head snaps round to stare at him.

"No," he says.

Daichi doesn't say anything else, but a bad feeling is beginning to build in his chest and stomach. He knows that something isn't right. No one’s meant to be that skinny, and some of Suga's habits are just, well, weird. But Suga has his jumper on now, and he has bounded over and is kissing Daichi's face and lips, and Daichi kisses him back, and tries to forget how frail his boyfriend is underneath his clothes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, apologies for the terribly written blowjob scene. I cringed when I reread it but I have no idea how to write it better, I'm just awful at writing smut.
> 
> Also I know it's tagged as bulimic Sugawara Koushi but you've probably realised by now he's actually a purging anorexic. Not sure if I should change the tags? 
> 
> This chapter was a week late so I'm gonna roll with that and give myself two weeks for the next one. Next update should be 23/10/16, spoons and uni work allowing.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying writing in a different tense to see if it helps because I've found this story hard to write. It seems to be working now, but that's why this chapter is different.

Suga wears a smile all day. Daichi watches carefully, but he really does seem ok. He smiles through classes, and even answers on several topics. He holds Daichi's hand between classes, but doesn't grip it desperately like he had the day before. He even braves the cafeteria. Daichi is pleased to see him finish half of his bowl of food, even if it does take him most of lunch break.

"I'll catch you up outside our next class, I just need the loo," he says, picking up his bag and tray. Daichi nods, and turns back to the classmates who are sharing their table.

"So you're both going to join the volleyball team too?" he asks.

Suga slips away, leaving Daichi chatting. He scrapes his plate and pockets into the bin, a whole bread bun falling, untouched, onto the food waste. Then he walks quickly towards the bathroom, his mask of happiness slipping as he pushes open the door and is finally alone. He knows he has to be quick. The bathroom is empty for now but the lunch break is ending and soon it would be filled with students needing a piss before their next class. He enters the cubicle and pushes the door shut. The lock's broken. Why was the lock always broken? He uses his bag to hold the door shut and drops to his knees. And then he purges all of the food and all of the feelings and all of the pent up anxiety and shame.

Suga doesn't attend the volleyball club that evening. Oh, he gets as far as the gym, clutching Daichi's warm hand for support, but he can't bring himself to step through. The squeak of shoes on the gym floor, the smell of sweat and the shouting voices-

"Nice receive!"

"One more!"

-are, at the same time, tempting and repelling him. He freezes, and Daichi, his hand already extended to push open the door, stops too.

"You ok?" he asks, puzzled.

Suga is silent. A moment passes. Two seconds? Three? It feels longer. And then- "I'm going home," he says.

"I can come with you," says Daichi, but Suga knows how much Daichi has been looking forward to this. Suga knows that he'll regret it if he doesn't go. Suga knows that the offer to come home, to pander to Suga's insecurities, is hollow, merely what he's supposed to say to his distressed boyfriend. Suga knows this, even though Daichi has never been insincere in his entire life, Suga just knows. 

"No ," he says, slipping his hand out of Daichi's grasp. "No. Go play. I'll be fine."

And Daichi takes his words at face value, just as he always does, because Daichi doesn't have a manipulative bone in his body. And Suga watches him enter the gym, the door sliding closed behind him, and for a fraction of a second, he hates him. 

So now Suga is alone in the apartment. Somehow, with only him here, it actually feels smaller than usual, the walls closing in, trapping him, suffocating him.

He can't breathe.

He paces the tiny patch of floor between the bed and the kitchen unit like a caged animal, only managing three steps before pivoting; three steps, pivot, three steps, pivot, three steps, pivot, over and over. The repetition is comforting but his breath is still short, catching in his chest. Maybe it's the beginning of a panic attack, or maybe he's actually dying. He strips off his shirt. He's alone. It's ok. He unfastens his binder, fingers tripping and stumbling over the row of tiny eye hooks. And then he can breathe again. The constriction in his chest is easing and the feelings of panic are receding. 

Only to be replaced by something new.

Disgust.

He. Hates. Himself.

And so, somehow, he finds himself naked in the tiny bathroom, stood in front of the mirror. His eyes roam his own body and he feels physically sick. He would purge but he hasn't eaten since lunch so his stomach is still empty from the previous purge. He wonders how Daichi hasn't noticed yet, and reasons that he probably has. This thought both thrills and terrifies him, but Daichi hasn't said anything to him about it all day and Suga takes this to mean that Daichi doesn't care.

Suga prods at his stomach.

Fat.

His thighs.

Fat.

His upper arms.

Fat.

His cheeks.

Fat. Puffy. Chipmunk face.

He can see bones poking through. He isn't blind. And yet, despite the prominent collar bones, wrist bones, hip bones, around them is still a sea of fat, fat, fat. And the worst part is that he still has those two lumps of fat on his chest. Smaller than they used to be, sure, but still there. Still shouting to him, the same as the gap between his legs where nothing hangs, that he's wrong. Not a boy. Not a man. Not right. Wrong, wrong, wrong.

"I'm still so fucking fat," he says. He feels like he should be crying, but right when he wants tears his treacherous eyes are dry. So he shouts instead, "I'm still so fucking fat," his nails scratching red lines into his skin. "I'm so fucking fat."

And that's when Daichi opens the door.

He finds him sitting on the floor, shaking.

"Koushi," he says, but Suga won't look at him. He knows he should drop to the floor with him, scoop up his shivering, shaking body in his arms, comfort him, kiss him, but he is frozen. "You're not fat," he says weakly, wishing he was better at expressing himself. Suga just shakes his head. "I'll find you some clothes," says Daichi. Suga doesn't respond.

Half an hour passes before Suga leaves the bathroom. He's wearing the clothes Daichi found for him; and oversized hoody and a pair of joggers. He has the hood up, obscuring most of his face, and his arms are wrapped tightly around his body.

"Can I touch you?" Daichi asks. A pause, and then Suga nods. "Come here then." Daichi pats the space on the bed beside him and Suga crawls in next to him, curling up against his side. Tentatively, Daichi wraps his arm around his boyfriend, gently stroking his silver hair with his other hand. There's so much he wants to say, wants to ask, but he can't find the words.

Suga closes his eyes. For a moment, things feel ok. Daichi is here and things are ok.

"You need to talk to a doctor or something," says Daichi finally.

Suga's frail wall of safety shatters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry sorry sorry for the delay! I've been finding this story hard to write for a number of reasons (mainly the content.. I managed to trigger myself with my own writing >.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally wrote a new chapter. Sorry it took two years... I've also rewritten the previous chapters, to change the tense because I like present tense much better than past.
> 
> Things are just getting worse for Suga and Daichi at the moment.

Daichi is scared. Suga won’t leave the house, and now that they’re living alone there’s no one there to make him. He won’t listen to Daichi. Daichi is so close to calling Suga’s parents, but he knows that if he does that, Suga will never speak to him again, and he can’t bear the thought of that.

But he can’t bear the thought of Suga dying, either.

That sounds drastic, he thinks, as he nurses his beer in the student bar. But it’s true. Suga’s not eating anything at all now, or at least he’s not eating anything when Daichi can see him. And he’s not hiding his vomiting anymore. Daichi can’t bare to go into their shared shower room, because it always smells so bad. And he’s always shouting at him, and crying, and they don’t touch anymore. Suga won’t even let him hold him. They lie in bed beside each other each night, Suga shivering despite the blankets, and if Daichi reaches for him he flinches and pulls away.

“I can’t cope,” he says.

“What?”

He hadn’t realised that he had said that out loud.

“Nothing, nothing.”

“No, dude, tell me. You’ve been so distracted at practice lately.”

He turns to face the man next to him, the guy he’s supposed to be enjoying a night out with. Kuroo is another first year in the volleyball club, and one of the few people who have made an effort to become Daichi’s friend. He never used to have trouble making friends, but now that Suga is so ill, so broken, he’s distracted and preoccupied, and no one wants to talk to someone who isn’t really listening to them.

“It’s nothing,” he says again, trying to smile at Kuroo.

“Bullshit,” says Kuroo. “Come on, we’re teammates.”

Daichi swallows, and then decides.

“Alright,” he says. “Alright.” He pauses, and Kuroo drains the last dregs of his drink. “You might need another drink for this.”

That bad?” Kuroo asks. Daichi nods, and Kuroo flags down the bartender and orders another pint. When it arrives, he turns expectantly to Daichi. “Alright, go on.”

Daichi decides to jump right in. “My boyfriend is sick,” he says. “I think he’s dying.” Saying it out loud makes it feel so much more real, and Daichi can feel the prickle of tears behind his eyes. He gulps down some beer, tries to blink them back.

“Shit,” says Kuroo. “I’m sorry. Is it cancer?”

Cancer. Would that be easier to deal with, wonders Daichi, and then instantly hates himself. Does he wish that Suga had cancer rather than whatever the hell this is? Is that awful of him? Probably.  
He shakes his head.

“I don’t really know what it is,” he says, his voice breaking on the last word. He’s going to cry. He’s going to cry in front of a teammate he’s only known for a few weeks, talking about things that Suga would hate him talking about. He shouldn’t even be out at a bar, he should be home, looking after his boyfriend, even though his boyfriend practically threw him out of the apartment that morning. What if he gets back and Suga’s hurt himself? Or he’s dropped dead, choked on his own vomit. Daichi’s mind is full of horrific images and now he can’t stop the tears. He turns away, wipes his eyes angrily.

“Dude, it’s ok, I’m sorry I asked,” says Kuroo gently. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.” He lays a comforting hand on Daichi’s shoulder and Daichi almost melts. It feels so long since he’s had proper human contact. And instantly he feels guilty, like he’s betraying Suga for enjoying simple platonic contact. But he doesn’t pull away. He can’t.

“I need to tell someone,” he says quietly. “It’s eating me away.” And then he lets out a short, barking laugh at the irony of his phrase, because it may be eating at him, but Suga isn’t eating at all.  
Kuroo just waits, watches.

“I think he has an eating disorder,” says Daichi, and it all comes pouring out. “Like, really bad. He won’t eat. He’s so skinny. He throws up so much. I’m so scared. And it used to be ok, I used to feel like I was helping him, but he’s changed. He’s isolating himself, from everyone, even me now. He won’t go to class, won’t leave the apartment for anything. He won’t even let me hold him anymore. And I’m so scared that he’s going to die.”

Kuroo embraces him, holds him in a hug that’s awkward at first, but then Daichi lets his head rest against the other man’s shoulder and just sobs.

-

Suga is sleeping when Daichi gets back to the apartment. Kuroo says goodbye at the door, almost gives him another hug but settles for a manly slap on the back.

“Call me if you need anything,” he says.

Daichi wants to invite him in, but the apartment is so tiny and Suga doesn’t know him and would almost certainly freak out, and it’s just not worth it.

“Thanks,” he says.

Closing the door on Kuroo feels like he’s cutting off a life line. He hates that he’s scared of Suga now. Scared of his outbursts, scared of his actions, scared of what he might do to himself. He sees Suga sitting cross legged on the bed, half hidden underneath a massive blanket, blankly staring the laptop screen in front of him, and gets the urge just to turn around and leave. But he doesn’t. There’s a comedy playing on the laptop, but Suga isn’t giggling along like he used to do, and the canned laugh track sounds hollow and fake. Daichi strides over, two steps, and shuts the laptop lid.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hey,” comes the response, an echo.

“Do you want dinner? I brought take out.” He shakes a couple of plastic bags in Suga’s direction.

“No,” says Suga.

“Are you sure? I got your favourite.”

“I’m sure.”

“Fine,” says Daichi. He stands beside the bed uselessly for a moment, the plastic bags swinging by his legs. He can smell the food, Chinese take out, and his mouth waters and his stomach rumbles but Suga just has a horrible little turn in his mouth, a disgusted expression, and suddenly Daichi isn’t sad, or scared, he’s just angry, so fucking angry. He wants to throw the food at Suga, shake him, hit him, knock the stupid out of him, but he doesn’t. He clenches the bag handles tightly in his fists, holding himself steady. “I’m going out,” he says, his voice level. “Don’t wait up.” And then he leaves, the door slamming shut behind him.

-

Suga sits in the bathroom, back against the toilet bowl. Fuck Daichi. He doesn’t need him. Doesn’t want him. Daichi wouldn’t care if he died. He’d proved that, walking out today. He’d fucking proved it. Proved that Suga is alone, truly alone, in all of this. In his hand, Suga holds the razors he bought at the cornershop whilst Daichi was out earlier. He had managed to pull himself together and leave the apartment for just long enough, and then he had hidden his little carrier bag of goodies under the bed. He isn’t going to end it this way. Too messy, too painful. No, that’s what the pills are for, when he manages to find the courage. No, this is just to feel something again. Something other than ice cold numbness or hot rage. So he drags it across his skin, and smiles at the beads of blood appearing along the straight line. It’s not deep. It’s not more than a scratch. But there’s something about it that makes him smile.


	7. Chapter 7

“Hey, Kuroo, wait,” Daichi shouts.

Kuroo is striding away down the street, but at Daichi’s shout he turns to look back.

Daichi runs to catch up.

“What’s up?” asks Kuroo, puzzled.

“Suga’s not hungry. Want to go somewhere and share this food?” Daichi asks. A pulse of guilt clenches his stomach but he ignores it. He’s hungry, and he’s done with this game. The apartment is sad and depressing, and maybe if he refuses to play the game, Suga will realise how stupid, how childish, how hurtful he’s being.

“Sure,” says Kuroo, grinning. “My place ok? Only it’s getting dark, and cold.”

Daichi nods. “Yeah, not really picnic weather,” he says, and smiles.

-

They sit on the couch in Kuroo’s flat. It’s bigger than Daichi and Suga’s, with more than one room, but it’s shared accommodation, and three other guys from volleyball also have rooms there. The shared living space makes a change, though. Being able to eat in a room that isn’t the bedroom. And Kuroo even has a proper TV, so they watch a football game while they eat. Bokuto pops his head round the door a couple of times to steal a handful of Kuroo’s food, but otherwise the other guys leave them alone.

“We’ve got exams tomorrow,” explains Kuroo. “Bo is meant to be studying, but he’s probably watching funny cat videos on youtube or something. Ushijima is actually studying, and Daishou said he was studying but I’m pretty sure I heard Hana’s voice earlier so I think we both know what he’s actually doing.”

Daichi laughs. It feels so nice to be sitting here with someone who isn’t Suga, and just eating and enjoying food, the way food is meant to be enjoyed. He still feels the guilt clenching in his stomach every time he thinks about Suga, but it’s fine, he isn’t doing anything wrong. Yes, Kuroo is very attractive. Tall, with that dark hair flopped casually over one eye, like bed head, but so much better than Daichi’s own spiky bed head that he has to wet flat each morning. He’s slim, but muscular, and he sits so casually, like he’s totally at home. Well, of course he’s at home, thinks Daichi. This is his home. But looking isn’t cheating. In fact, before Suga got so sick, the two of them used to share crushes, point out attractive people in the street, play fuck marry kill late at night. There was never any jealousy between them. They both knew that whilst other people might be physically attractive, it was each other that they loved. Anyway, Daichi rationalises, as he lets his eyes scan Kuroo appreciatively whilst the other is focused on the TV, Kuroo’s probably straight, so it doesn’t matter.

“Am I keeping you from studying?” Daichi asks.

“No, I know everything already.” Kuroo smirks. “I’m smart like that.”

“Right… So if I quizzed you, you’d get everything right?”

“Yes, probably.”

“Probably doesn’t get you an A.”

The guilt is fading away. This is fun. It wasn’t fun with Suga anymore. And he’s allowed friends, anyway. Just because Suga doesn’t go out anymore doesn’t mean that he can’t have a life either.

They end up in Kuroo’s bedroom, leaving the remains of the food in the living room.

“Someone will eat it,” says Kuroo.

“Probably Bo,” says Daichi.

“Probably Bo.”

Daichi sits cross legged on the floor, back up against the wall. He’s holding Kuroo’s chemistry textbook.

“So all of you do chemistry?” he asks.

“No, only me. Bo’s doing zoology, Ushijima does maths, and Daishou is in computer science. But all the sciences have their exams the same week.”

“I didn’t know that,” says Daichi. He wonders how he’s gone weeks without getting to know his teammates properly. “I’m in humanities.”

“History,” said Kuroo. “I know. Your exams are in a couple weeks.”

Shit, thinks Daichi. “Yeah,” he says. “I should start revising.”

“Nah, you’re good, how hard can history be?”

“Harder than you think,” retorts Daichi, but they’re both laughing. “Here, let me test you.” He flips the book open to a random page and starts firing questions at Kuroo.

-

Daichi opens the apartment door. It’s late, so he steps in quietly, expecting Suga to be in bed asleep.

“Where were you?” asks Suga. His voice comes from the bathroom.

“At a friend’s,” says Daichi. He doesn’t know why he doesn’t say Kuroo’s name.

“A friend,” says Suga. “Cool.”

Daichi is worried. He slides open the bathroom door, and sees Suga on the floor, gripping his knees and rocking backwards and forwards.

“How long have you been there?” he asks.

Suga shrugs.

“Come and get warm,” says Daichi. He holds out his hand, and Suga takes it, fingers cold and bony. He leaves the razors on the floor, and Daichi sees them, but doesn’t say anything. Because what could he say? Nothing he hasn’t said already. He leads Suga back into the main room, gently helps him to undress and change into his night clothes, and sits him down on the bed. Suga is pliant and obedient through this, silently letting Daichi guide him. Daichi sees the plasters stuck to his forearm, but the wounds look small, so again he doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t know what to say. “Can I make you something to eat?” he says, instead.

Suga shakes his head. “I ate earlier,” he lies.

Daichi knows that he didn’t, but he just shrugs. “Fine then. Let’s go to bed.” He changes into his own night clothes, boxers and an old tshirt, and crawls under the covers next to Suga. “Please let me hold you,” he says, and Suga lets him, lying stiff and cold in his arms.

Neither of them sleep well.

-

Daichi goes to class the next day without Suga, again. That morning, he had helped Suga check his emails, had seen the angry message from the school questioning Suga’s low attendance. Suga had just rolled back under the covers, stony faced, and Daichi hadn’t known what to say.

At lunchtime, he wonders if he should pop home and check on Suga, but then Kuroo and Bokuto grab him and persuade him to eat with them, so he doesn’t.

-

Suga looks at the packets of pills. Does he have enough? He’s not sure. He begins methodically popping them from the blister packs, collecting them in a bowl. They look so pretty, little white, powdery pills. Like candy. He’s not going to take them yet, but he wants the option. Wants them to be ready.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I figure short, regular chapters are better than longer chapters posted with massive gaps so that's the route I'm going at the moment.


	8. Chapter 8

Daichi is spending less time in the apartment, and Suga wonders where he is. He should have been back from college a couple hours ago. Suga wishes that he’d gone with him. He wonders what he’s been missing, skipping his lectures. But the thought of leaving the building, walking along the street, gathering up his limited energy and facing the stares from the other students makes him shudder and close in on himself again.

-

“Hey, want another study session tonight?” Kuroo asks after practice finishes and they’re in the changing rooms.

“Your exams are over,” says Daichi, pulling on his shirt and steadfastly refusing to let himself watch Kuroo as he changes.

“Figured I could test you, return the favour,” says Kuroo, grinning. “Since your exams start in three days.”

“Oh shit,” says Daichi.

“Don’t tell me you forgot?”

“Ugh, of course I forgot.” He thinks about Suga, and realises that going back to the apartment to sit in silence with his stony faced boyfriend, eating instant ramen and feeling guilty because Suga won’t, is the last thing on earth that he wants to do. “Fine,” he says, glancing at Kuroo, who is playing with his hair, teasing it back into the ‘I totally fell out of bed this way and didn’t spend three hours on my hair’ style. “But I want pizza.”

“We can do pizza.”

“Take out pizza, not a crappy supermarket one.”

“Fussy.” Kuroo laughs. “Fine, I’ll order in. But I’ll have you know there’s nothing wrong with a good old own brand cheese pizza.”

“There is everything wrong with what you just said.”

They leave the changing room together, chatting and laughing. Daichi feels so at ease, and it’s such a different feeling than when he was around Suga. Kuroo always has a joke to crack, some way of making Daichi smile or laugh. When they get into the house, Kuroo orders pizza and mozzarella sticks and garlic dip and chocolate chip cookies and coke. They’re hungry after practice, after all. They sit on the sofa, Kuroo grilling Daichi on dates from his War and Society textbook. 

“Well, this is cheerful,” he says sarcastically, as Daichi reels off yet another battle date. “Is your whole course just regurgitating this shit, like a human timeline?”

“Of course not,” says Daichi.

“Is this actually helping you revise?” Kuroo asks.

“Not really.”

“You just like listening to my voice?” Kuroo says with a smirk.

“No, it’s horrible,” Daichi deadpans. “Hate it. Can’t stand you.”

He doesn’t know how it happens, but suddenly, the tension and energy that has been building between them reaches a critical point. It feels like the air between them is alive, crackling and fizzing between them. He glances at Kuroo’s face, and he’s caught in Kuroo’s gaze. His dark, smoldering eyes. 

“Um,” he says, unable to pull his gaze away.

“Um,” echoes Kuroo, smirking. That flop of hair over his eye is bugging Daichi, but he doesn’t know why. He wants to reach out and touch it, brush it out of Kuroo’s eyes. “Hey,” says Kuroo, and Daichi realises that his hand is against Kuroo’s face, brushing at that annoying flop of hair. He snatches his hand back quickly, like it’s been burnt. 

“Sorry,” he mutters, finally averting his eyes. But then Kuroo’s hands are on his face, tilting it up so he can’t help but look at Kuroo again.

And then he feels Kuroo’s lips on his, warm and soft, and he closes his eyes, and it’s like time has stopped, and nothing matters anymore.

This is what he’s been missing, he thinks, as he twists his fingers through Kuroo’s hair. This is what he’s been craving. Kuroo’s tongue is in his mouth, and he feels himself being pulled over onto Kuroo’s lap, strong arms wrapped tightly around him. He can feel Kuroo’s hard on against his thighs, and his own is growing as Kuroo’s hands begin to roam his body, caressing his back, his shoulders, his ass. 

Kuroo pulls back, and says “hey, what’s wrong?” and Daichi realises with shock that he’s crying, warm, salty tears running down his cheeks. Angrily, he wipes them away, and backs away from Kuroo, standing up so that he’s further away, so that he’s not tempted.

“We shouldn’t do this,” he says bruskly, gathering his books and stuffing them into his backpack.

“I’m sorry,” says Kuroo, watching him carefully. “I crossed a line, and I shouldn’t have.”

“It’s not on you, it’s on me. I shouldn’t even be here.”

“What do you mean you shouldn’t be here? It was fine up until…” Kuroo trails off. “But it was fine, we’re friends, aren’t we?”

“I should have gone straight home,” says Daichi. There’s a note of panic in his voice, but he does his best to keep it level. “I should be looking after Suga. He needs me.”

“He needs you,” says Kuroo, letting out a sarcastic laugh. “He does nothing for you, he just sits in your flat and controls and manipulates you. That’s not a relationship.”

“He’s sick,” says Daichi defensively.

“Then he needs help. You’re not his carer, you’re not a doctor, and you can’t fix this, Daichi.”

“I need to go.”

“Please don’t,” says Kuroo, and Daichi can’t bare to look him in the eyes. He picks up his bag, slings it across his shoulders and walks out without looking back.

-

Daichi doesn’t know what to expect when he arrives home. Maybe Suga will be smiling, will hug him, will sit and watch crappy movies with him, laughing at all the funny bits, and it’ll be like old times. Who is he kidding? It can never be like that again. It’s more likely he’ll find him lying dead in the bathroom, he thinks, and thinking of that happening doesn’t feel shocking or scary anymore. It feels almost normal, and there’s only a dull pain in his chest when he pictures Suga’s body lying broken and still on the floor. Then he immediately feels disgusting, like he’s wished Suga dead, when it really isn’t like that at all, it isn’t.

He pushes his key into the yale lock and turns it slowly. Maybe Suga will scream at him for being out so late. Maybe Suga will be able to tell that he’s been unfaithful just by looking at him. God, what if he tells him, and that’s what pushes Suga over the edge? What if kissing Kuroo is what finally kills Suga? Why is he so fixated on Suga dying? Because you’re scared, says his subconscious. You’re scared he’s dying and now you’re trying to normalise it. Because it’s going to happen at some point, if he keeps on like this. It might be your fault, or it might be caused by something completely different, but it’s going to happen.

Horrible images flash through his mind as he pushes the door open. Dead Suga, bleeding Suga, puking Suga, screaming Suga, crying Suga, silent Suga. But what he sees isn’t what he imagines at all.

Suga isn’t there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know where this story is going, it's either going to end soon, or this is the middle :') Not sure yet.


	9. Chapter 9

It isn’t like there’s anywhere in the tiny apartment for Suga to hide. Once Daichi has peered round the door to the bathroom to find the room and the shower stall empty, and pulled back the duvet and blankets to check that Suga isn’t hiding under them, it’s pretty obvious that he is no longer in the apartment. Diachi glances under the bed, just in case, but there’s so much junk stored under there that even in his skinny state it would be impossible for Suga to wedge himself beneath it. In desperation Daichi pulls open the cupboards and searches through the clothing and other personal items, as if he is looking for something much smaller than a full grown man. Needless to say, Suga isn’t there. Daichi sits down on the bed, his head dropping into his arms, and he stares down at the floor, trying to calm himself. He can feel a complete panic building, and he doesn’t experience those very often. He’s supposed to be the calm one. The stable one. Suga’s the one who shows his emotions. Suga. God, if he hadn’t been kissing Kuroo… His pulse quickens at the thought of Kuroo’s mouth, and hands, and tongue, and he hates himself. 

After a moment, he pulls himself together. Sitting here isn’t going to find Suga. He needs to move. He’s probably fine, he tries to reassure himself. He’s probably popped to the shop, or decided to visit a friend. But Suga never ‘pops to the shop’, and he’s cut off all of his old friends, without making any new friends.

“What do I do?” Daichi says out loud. “What do I do?” He glances around the flat again. It looks like Suga’s coat and shoes are gone, which means that he probably hasn’t been abducted. And as he looks, Daichi realises that quite a lot of Suga’s things are gone, too. A bag, most of his clothes, a few books. It wasn’t noticeable at first because of the mess, but the more he looks the more he realises things are missing.

He calls Kuroo. It’s awkward, but Kuroo is his only real friend here, and he’s in too much of a panic to be bothered about the embarrassment of calling the guy he was just cheating with. 

“Daichi?”

“Kuroo, he’s gone.”

“Who’s gone?”

“Suga. Suga’s gone.”

“Gone where?” Kuroo sounds sleepy and confused. Daichi glances at the clock but it’s not late at all. 

“Were you asleep?” he asks, distractedly.

“I took a cat nap,” says Kuroo, yawning down the phone. “Where’s Suga gone?”

“I don’t know! I came back and the flat was empty.”

“The shops?” suggests Kuroo. “A friend’s?”

“You don’t understand,” says Daichi. “He doesn’t have friends. He doesn’t go out. And his things are gone. What if he’s dead?”

“Woah, hold up. Can I come over?”

“I need to find him, Kuroo.” Daichi is crying again. He never used to cry this much. 

“I’m coming over,” says Kuroo. “Stay put. Give me ten minutes.”

Daichi stays put. He feels frozen in place, sitting on the double bed, watching the door. He keeps hoping it’ll open, that he’ll see Suga come through the door, smiling. And Suga will hold him, like he used to. But it doesn’t happen.

-

There’s a knock on the door. Daichi jumps up, pulls the door open frantically, but it’s only Kuroo. Of course. Suga has keys. Why would he knock?

“Hey,” says Kuroo. “Tell me what happened.”

Daichi sits back down.

“Like I said on the phone,” he says quietly. “I got back and he was gone. And his stuff is gone too. He’s so sick, I’m scared he’s in trouble. I don’t know where he could have gone.”

Daichi is shivering. The heating is off in the flat and he’s been sitting still for way too long. Kuroo moves to hug him, but stops himself. He pulls the duvet up off the bed instead, and drapes it round Daichi’s shoulders.

“You need to get warm, can I make a cup of tea for you?” he asks. 

Daichi nods, and waves his hand at the worktop counter, where an electric kettle, a couple of chipped mugs and a tea caddy are standing. Kuroo puts the kettle on to boil.

“Let’s start with ringing round, before we start a full on manhunt,” he says.

Daichi pulls his phone out of his pocket.

“Have you tried ringing Suga?” Kuroo asks.

Daichi shakes his head.

“That’s the first step, then.”

With shaking fingers, Daichi finds Suga’s number. It’s on speed dial, back from the days when they still lived at home, and would call each other for hours each evening, even after spending all day at school together. Back when spending time in each other’s company was fun. He lifts the phone to his ear.

And he hears it ringing.

And ringing.

And ringing.

Until eventually, Suga’s voicemail clicks on, his cheery voice giving Daichi such a jolt to his stomach, he thinks he’s about to throw up. He drops the phone onto the bed.

“No answer,” he says.

“Ok,” says Kuroo, keeping his cool. “Who might he visit? Does he have any friends?”

Daichi shakes his head. And then he says, “wait, maybe Asahi. I’ll call Asahi.”

“Hello?” Asahi says cautiously down the phone. Daichi feels a rush of relief at hearing a friendly voice.

“Asahi, it’s Daichi,” he says. “Is Suga with you?”

Straight to the chase. 

“Suga? No, why?”

“Oh.” Daichi pauses. How much should he tell Asahi? 

“Are you ok?” Asahi asks.

“Fine, everything’s fine, I just thought Suga said something about visiting you, but I must have been mistaken. Talk later.”

Asahi barely manages to say goodbye before Daichi hangs up the phone. He shakes his head at Kuroo. 

“He’s not there, but I don’t know why I thought he would be,” he says despondently. “He hasn’t spoken to Asahi in months.”

“Have some tea,” says Kuroo, feeling useless. He hands Daichi the hot mug, and sits down on the bed beside him. “I’m sorry,” he says.

“Huh?”

“I didn’t realise things were so complicated for you,” Kuroo ploughs on. “I would never have.. If I knew you were… I’m just sorry, ok.”

Daichi nods. He doesn’t know what to say in response, so he sips at his tea instead, allowing the hot liquid to burn on his tongue.

-

Suga is cold. He’s always cold these days, but outside, in the evening, is colder than he’s used to, and he pulls his jacket tighter around himself. He’s not sure where he’s going, just needs to get out of the apartment. Just needs to get away from everything that’s closing in on him. And the exercise feels good, too, in a sick way. Back in school, when this all started, he had worked out compulsively. Worked too hard at volleyball, ran for miles after school, biked with Hinata in his third year, was constantly on at Daichi and Asahi to race him, play volleyball with him, do anything that would help him keep his heart rate up. At first it hadn’t been about the calories. He wasn’t really thinking about the amount of food he was or wasn’t consuming, but exercising helped him to feel hungry, and when he felt hungry things felt ok. But now, now he was too tired. He barely moved, spending most of his time curled up on the bed wrapped in as many layers as he could find. So actually walking, striding as best he can, down the street and away from the claustrophobic apartment, it really does feel good.

-

“My boyfriend’s missing… I came home and he wasn’t here… He’s twenty, we live together... you don’t understand, he’s sick… what do you mean you can’t do anything? Please… You have to help me… No, I understand… Ok. Sugawara Koushi… I’m Sawamura Daichi.”

Kuroo cocks his head at Daichi and raises an eyebrow.

Daichi shakes his head in response. “He’s an adult, and he’s only been gone a few hours so they can’t help. Said they’d keep their eyes open since he probably classes as vulnerable but unless they actually end up arresting him for something, it’s his decision where he goes.” Daichi rests his head in his hands. “I don’t understand,” he says quietly.

Kuroo throws caution to the wind, and gently lays an arm around Daichi’s shoulder. Daichi doesn’t move away. “It isn’t fair he’s done this to you,” he says.

“He’s sick,” Daichi says feebly.

“It’s no fucking excuse.”

Daichi shrugs. “I’m not exactly a stellar boyfriend myself,” he mutters. 

Kuroo doesn’t say anything.

“I wish things were simpler,” says Daichi, finally.

“So do I,” says Kuroo.

He stays the night, lying in the bed beside Daichi, neither of them sleeping well as they wait for Suga to come home. But they don’t hold each other again.


	10. Chapter 10

It’s getting dark when Suga finally stops wandering aimlessly around the streets. He’s cold, and exhausted, and not entirely sure where he is. He had started off simply walking in a straight line away from his apartment, doing his best to get as far away as possible. But then the roads got more complicated, and he’d had to make decisions, choose left or right, and he couldn’t for the life of him remember which way he’d chosen. He recognises a few of the buildings around him; a twenty four hour convenience store, and a busy pub, but he’s been out so rarely in his new university town that recognising them doesn’t help him much. Wanting to get out of the cold, he heads into the convenience store. The pub is too full of people, and the thought of stepping inside it makes him feel sick. This is a safer option.

Inside the shop, he browses the aisles to make it look like he’s doing something. So much food, the packets glaring at him, all bright colours and promises of Fat Fat Fat. 

His stomach rumbles.

Sometimes, he does eat. When Daichi’s out, he orders take out directly to the apartment. Pizza, usually, with all the trimmings. Garlic bread and mozzarella sticks and garlic dip and cookies for dessert. He answers the door, is as brief as he can be with the delivery driver, not wanting to stop and chat, and then settles down on the floor in the tiny shower room, boxes open in front of him. And then he eats, stuffing it in, barely tasting it, the hot food hitting his stomach and making him feel nauseous. And when he’s full to bursting, he turns to the toilet, pukes and pukes, until he feels empty again. He turns back to the food. Rinse and repeat, until it’s all gone. He’ll finish purging, throwing up for longer than he knows is safe, the fear lurking in the back of his mind that he’ll die there, crouched over the toilet, not because he’s afraid to die but because he can’t bear the thought of Daichi finding him in such a compromising position. And then finally, he’ll get rid of all the evidence. Fold the pizza boxes backwards on themselves and wedge them into the outside bins beneath other people’s rubbish, where no one will look. Spray air freshener in the room, more to hide the smell of garlic and cheese and tomato sauce than to hide the smell of puke. The eating is more embarrassing than the throwing up. And then he’ll curl up on the bed and nurse his aching stomach, waiting for Daichi to come home, hating himself for giving in to his piece of shit brain and piece of shit body, hating himself for the money he’s wasted and the fat he’s most certainly gained. And then he’ll refuse all food for as long as he can, making sure that he won’t gain anything from his moment of weakness.

But he can’t do that now. There’s nowhere private to eat, or to purge. So he walks past the aisles of food that’s calling out to him, towards the back of the shop and the drinks cabinet. A bottle of vodka would be so tempting, except for the sheer amount of empty calories in it. Drinking himself to oblivion, forgetting the mess he’s made of his life and his relationships. But the calories. So he takes a diet coke instead, heads up to the counter, avoids eye contact as he pays. It’s been so long since he’s actually bought anything in a shop, and it’s terrifying.

He stands outside the convenience store, drinking his coke and shivering. The bag on his back is cutting into his skin, pressing down on his bones, and it’s making him ache, so he lets it fall to the ground beside him.

His phone rings.

He scrabbles at his pocket, finding the phone, pulling it out. It’s Daichi, and he almost answers it, desperate to hear his boyfriend’s voice, desperate to hear the love in his voice. But then, staring at Daichi’s name on the screen, he remembers that he’s not deserving of love. That Daichi probably hates him, and that’s why he spends so much time outside of the apartment now. That Daichi deserves someone less broken than him. That Daichi can’t love him, because Suga is unloveable. 

He ignores the call, watching and waiting as it rings and rings, until the call cuts off automatically. 

He stands there for ten minutes longer, until the shop assistant comes out to see if he’s ok. He averts his eyes, nods, shuffles away from the doorway and out into the night. There’s nowhere for him to go, and he’s almost about to give up, turn back, try to find his way back to the apartment, when he suddenly feels terribly, terribly homesick. 

He calls home.

“Mum?”

“Koushi, sweetie, are you ok?” His mum sounds worried, which makes sense. He hasn’t spoken to her, or to his dad, in weeks. 

“No,” he whispers down the phone. “I want to come home.”

“What’s happened? Has something happened to you?” His mum’s voice is rising in pitch, and he wants to end the call, wishes he had never said anything. But he knows that if he doesn’t do something, reach out to someone, he’s going to die. Because anything is better than living like this.

“I need to come home,” he whispers.

“Koushi, you’re worrying me. Are you safe? Are you at a party?”

The sounds of the pub are probably spilling down the phone.

“No, I’m just outside a pub,” he says. “I was just walking.”

There’s a pause as his mum takes in the information.

“On your own?” she asks.

“Yes.”

“Where’s Daichi?”

“I don’t know, probably at home or out with his friends,” says Suga, bitterness creeping into his voice. “I need to come home now.”

There’s a sad sigh at the other end of the phone.

“I was worried about this, when you decided to move so far away. Are people bullying you? Should I get your dad to ring your school? If it’s because of, you know, then that’s a hate crime, Koushi.”

“No, no. I just need to come home.”

An hour later, after following directions from google maps to the nearest train station, Suga finds himself sitting on a train on his way home. His mum has promised that his dad will pick him up from the station, even though it’ll be late when he arrives, and, although he’s scared, he’s relieved. This is a positive decision. When he gets home, his mum will know what to do. She’ll look after him. She’ll help him. And maybe, just maybe, he won’t want to die anymore. He still has the pills of course, and the razors, tucked into a pocket of his rucksack. Just in case.

-

Daichi wakes up to an empty bed. He reaches out, but Suga isn’t there. For a moment, he panics, but then yesterday comes flooding back to him, and he remembers, it wasn’t Suga who slept beside him last night. It was Kuroo. He hears banging, and he opens his eyes. Kuroo is standing at the counter, boiling the kettle and looking for mugs.

“Thought you could do with a coffee,” he says, shrugging. “I need one, anyway.”

“Suga?” says Daichi, sleepily, hopefully.

Kuroo shakes his head. “Not here.”

Daichi sits up, pulls the covers round himself. He reaches for his phone as Kuroo fills the mugs and carries them over to the bed.

“Here you go,” he says, handing Daichi a steaming mug. Then he carefully crawls into bed beside him, taking care not to spill his own cup.

“No missed calls,” says Daichi, taking the coffee but not drinking any. “He hasn’t even bothered.” He’s not feeling as scared this morning, just kind of numb. Suga is probably dead. He thinks of his skin and bone body and his apathy to the world and can’t see how he could have survived a night on his own. 

Kuroo reaches out an arm to comfort him, but thinks better of it, his arm stopping in mid air for a moment before dropping back to the bed. 

Daichi stares at his phone.

Numb.

He pictures the police finding Suga’s body. The crime scene. The cops and the CSI teams taking photos and collecting evidence. The body, in a body bag, carted away for an autopsy. The funeral. The black and the crying as a Suga sized coffin is lowered into the ground. Through the numbness he feels a wave of nausea, and he places his mug on the floor before clambering over Kuroo and out of the bed, racing to the toilet, dropping to his knees and throwing up loudly. There isn’t much in his stomach because he hasn’t eaten since he was at Kuroo’s the night before, but somehow his stomach still manages to empty something into the toilet bowl with a splash. Throwing up is so disgusting, and he wonders how Suga manages to make himself do it day in and day out, and then the thought of Suga’s dead body enters his mind again and he’s throwing up again, only this time his stomach really is empty and it’s only bile.

“Daichi?” calls Kuroo. “Are you alright?”

Daichi groans and rests his head against the cold of the shower room floor. 

“Your phone’s ringing,” says Kuroo. 

Daichi scrambles to his feet and back into the bedroom. “Give it here, who is it?” he almost shouts, as Kuroo hands him the phone. A number is displayed on the screen, not one that he has saved in his contacts, although that doesn’t mean much because Daichi is notoriously bad at remembering to save new numbers. Hands shaking, he answers it. “Hello?”


	11. Chapter 11

“Daichi? It’s Koushi’s mum,” says the voice at the other end of the phone.

Daichi is silent, terrified.

“Daichi?”

“Yes, hello,” he manages to squeak out. She doesn’t sound happy, but she doesn’t sound like he would have expected if Suga was dead. Surely, if police had come knocking on the Sugawara front door in the middle of the night, she would be crying, at least a little.

“I’m just calling to let you know that Suga’s safe,” she says, and Daichi breathes out a breath he hadn’t realised that he was holding. “He’s at home with us, and we think that he needs to stay here for a while.”

“Ok,” says Daichi, quietly. “Can I come see him? I need to talk to him.” What about? His illness? His running away? Kuroo and how Daichi cheated on his vulnerable boyfriend at a critical time? He’s not sure. But he wants to see Suga so badly, wants to hold him, wants to tell him that he loves him and that it’ll all be ok.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” says Suga’s mum, and Daichi realises that there’s a coldness in her voice. “He needs some time. He’ll contact you when he’s ready.”

“Oh, ok,” says Daichi, too drained to argue.

“Goodbye, Daichi.”

He stares at the phone in his hand.

“You ok?” asks Kuroo, and Daichi jumps. He had forgotten that the other man was still in the room.

“I’m not allowed to see him,” he says.

“What the fuck?” Kuroo exclaims. “That’s fucked up!”

Daichi shrugs. “Maybe he doesn’t want to see me.” He sits down on the bed. “You should get going, classes start soon,” he says softly.

“We can walk together,” says Kuroo.

“I’m not going.”

“Let’s watch movies and order pizza then,” says Kuroo. “I can skip this class, and I don’t think you should be alone.”

Daichi is going to argue, going to make Kuroo go to his class, make someone keep living a normal life, but he doesn’t have the energy, so he just shrugs.

“Fine,” he says.

-

“I don’t think it’s good for you to see him.”

“But mum-”

“No, look at the state you’ve got in. I knew going away wouldn’t be good for you.”

“It’s not Daichi’s fault,” whispers Suga, but his mum isn’t listening to anything he says. She made him sleep on a mattress on the floor in their bedroom instead of letting him sleep in his own bedroom. She’s got him sitting at the dinner table, a massive plate of fried food in front of him, and she isn’t letting him leave until he’s eaten it. She’s just got off the phone with Daichi, telling him not to call, not to visit, to stay away because Suga doesn’t need him. Suga prods at the food with his fork. God, all the grease, all the fat. He pokes at the wobbly, globby yoke of a fried egg and it bursts, spilling calories all over his plate, and he feels his stomach twist in disgust. And then he has an idea. He begins to eat, forcing the food into his mouth, swallowing it down after barely chewing it. He gulps down the glass of orange juice as well, washing the oil and fat and meat into his stomach. “I’m done,” he says loudly.

His mum looks at his empty plate in surprise. “Well done,” she says, a touch of tenderness in her voice. “I’m proud.”

Suga’s stomach churns again. He feels guilty, but it doesn’t matter. This is his only option.

“I’m going to shower,” he says.

“Ok,” says his mum, loosening her grip on him now that she’s seen him eating.

Suga stands up from the table, feeling nauseous from the amount of food in his stomach. He tries to stay calm as he leaves the room, so as not to arouse suspicion, but as soon as he’s out of sight of his mum he starts running, up the stairs to the bathroom. Door locked, shower on and loud, curled over the toilet in the only way he knows how to cope.

It can’t last, though. After dinner, the third meal he’s thrown up that day, he gets caught. His dad knocks on the door, asking why he’s taking so long, and tells him to get out now, he’s using up all the hot water. Suga tries to flush and clean himself up as quickly as possible, but when he opens the door, and his dad wrinkles his nose, he realises he’s been rumbled.

“What were you doing in here?” his dad asks, suspiciously. 

“Nothing,” says Suga, trying to push past, but his dad is blocking the doorway.

“Why does it smell like sick in here?”

Suga shrugs.

“Did you…?”

Suga feels deep shame, a prickling heat in his cheeks. God, he feels disgusting.

His dad calls for his mum, who comes running up the stairs faster than Suga has ever known her to move before.

“What’s wrong, what’s happened?” she cries, panting as she tries to catch her breath.

“He’s throwing up,” says his dad.

And that’s the end of that.

Suga never wants to see the expression on his mum’s face ever again. Horror and disgust and shame and sadness, all mixed into one. As if the weightloss wasn’t enough, he’s doing this as well. There’s no way it’s just stress, just an accident that he’s so skinny. He’s doing it on purpose.

He lies in his bed, in his own bedroom, curled under the covers, as his dad stands watch at the door, not speaking to him. His mum is downstairs, making phonecalls. He doesn’t know what’s going to happen next but he knows it’s going to be big. Scary. And he doesn’t feel ready for it, at all. His mind strays to Daichi, wonders what his boyfriend is doing without him, wonders if he’s even thinking about him. Wonders if they can survive this. Wonders if he’ll even ever see him again. His brain is running so fast, he can barely keep up with the racing thoughts, and he grips himself tighter, curling up into a smaller ball, trying to close in on himself, like an imploding star.


End file.
